CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Taylor knew it was going to be chaos at the station when she arrived but she was totally unprepared for what she encountered. A huge crowd of reporters had gathered outside. Some of them had even camped out for the night, by the look of things. Several TV crews had set up and she’d have to run the gauntlet to get to the station door. She braced herself for a barrage of questions.
“DC Taylor!” A man held a microphone so close to Taylor’s mouth, she was tempted to take a bite out of it. “What was it like working on such a complex case?”
“No comment.” They’d get their information soon enough from the press conference.
“I believe you were the only one from Trotterdown involved in the investigation?” asked a young woman.
“Everybody here was involved. And I’m from Edinburgh.”
Where do they get their information from? she wondered, and barged past them inside the station.
The two PCs White were deep in conversation by the front desk. They stopped talking as soon as Taylor walked in.
“Get over it,” she said and went on walking. “It’s all over.” She carried on down the corridor towards the office she shared with DS Duncan. He was staring blankly at his computer screen.
“Morning, Sarge.”
“I can’t figure this thing out.” Duncan pressed keys helplessly. “Ugh. No idea what’s going wrong.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to send an email and every time I send it, it comes back telling me it’s bounced.”
“Let’s have a look,” Taylor bent over his shoulder. “There’s your problem. You’re sending to ‘com,’ not ‘co.uk.’”
“Thanks. It always gets me, that one. Congratulations on the investigation, by the way. You did us all proud.”
Taylor wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. “Are you all right?”
“I’ve got a bit of a cold.”
“No, you realise you’ve just paid me a compliment?”
“You did well. I give praise, where praise is due.”
“Thanks, Sarge.”
Taylor headed to the canteen for a cup of tea. Duncan’s words had cheered her up as much as they’d surprised her — he was the last person she expected to congratulate her. Her high spirits disappeared when she walked into the canteen and saw DCI Warren James sitting by the window with Carrick, Southern and Brown. They had the whole room to themselves.
“There’s our girl.” James’ voice echoed. He had obviously forgotten about the scene he had caused in the hotel the night before.
“Sit down,” he told her. “We’re going through our strategy for today. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. I’ve done this plenty of times before.”
“Strategy?” Taylor sat next to DC Brown. “I thought the case was closed.”
“You’ll soon learn — case closed is often just the beginning. Now comes the gauntlet that is the fourth estate.”
“The press,” Carrick clarified.
“I know what the fourth estate means,” said Taylor.
“Nowadays,” James continued, “solving the crime is just one aspect of our jobs.” Clearly, one of his lengthy soliloquies was on the cards. “The crimes have been solved and now we have to make sure we’re seen in a favourable light. Our PR is as important as the rest of our performance.”
This idiot really does love the sound of his own voice, Taylor thought.
“We all need to be on-message.” James was far from finished. “We need to be singing from the same song-sheet. We’ll be running through our key points and making sure we’re all coordinated. Sorry about last night, Taylor, by the way. I tend to get a bit over- enthusiastic when an investigation is wound up.”
Is that the apology Southern was talking about? He might as well not have bothered.
“As I said,” James went on “we have the whole day to prepare ourselves. The press office has a few ends to tie up — press materials and whatnot. So we’ve called the press conference for six this evening.”
“I can’t make it,” Taylor said, “I’ve got plans.” She was due to celebrate Alice Green’s birthday with her.
“Cancel them.”
“I can’t. I promised.”
“You will be at that press conference.” James said. “You were part of the team. Your presence is required. You were the representative of Trotterdown in all of this. Your colleagues are relying on you.”
Taylor was stuck. She didn’t want to let Alice down but her whole career could go up in smoke if she didn’t do what he said.
“I’ll be there.” She’d have to find a way to let Alice down gently.
* * *
The next three hours were possibly the most painful of Taylor’s life. By the end, she was exhausted and still none the wiser about the right and wrong way to address the press. After the first hour of James’ lecture, she almost dozed off. Only the subtle nudge under the table from DS Southern had kept her awake. When the ordeal was over, everyone was given the rest of the day off to ‘get themselves ready’ (Warren was clearly heading for a haircut before facing the cameras). Taylor headed straight for Killian’s office.
He was staring out of the window when she knocked and entered.
“Back to normal again,” she said. “It’s good to see you back in here.”
“It’s good to be back. I suppose you’re here about your leave. I haven’t forgotten.”
“I was thinking about two weeks starting tomorrow.”
“No problem. Planning on getting away?”
“Definitely. A nice break somewhere warm and far away.”
“I envy you. I can’t remember when I last had a proper holiday. That’s all a bit in the past for Megan and me.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Better. She may be allowed home in the next few days. It’s not right at home without her. I’ll send the leave forms through to admin. I believe James has organised the press conference for six this evening?”
“Yes. I’m dreading it. I’ve got a feeling he’s going to parade us in front of the press like prize cattle.”
“Smile and wave. It’ll be over before you know it.”
“If you say so. I’ll see you there.”
“I’m not invited. It’ll be fine and then you can enjoy a well-earned break. We’ll miss you around here.”
Taylor left past PC Eric White in reception without saying a word. There were still hours before the press conference. She got in her car and drove straight home, where she turned on her computer. Dennis Albarn’s autopsy report was the only new email. She opened it and read it carefully.
Albarn had suffered extensive burns to most of his body. His internal organs had been boiled by the intense heat. Taylor shuddered. She read the whole report and scrolled back up to the top. There has to be something here, she told herself. She read it again. Albarn’s heart had stopped beating before he was engulfed in flames. She didn’t understand some of the terminology. She took out her phone and dialled Dr Finch’s number.
“Finch,” he answered. He sounded tired.
“Jon,” Taylor said, “can you talk?”
“Have been able to since I was eighteen months old. That’s twice in two days you’ve phoned me. What can I do for you?”
“I’m reading the autopsy report now. Can you translate something for me?”
“Hold on. Let me get to my computer.”
She heard rustling on the other end of the line.